


Hearts of Steel

by Jael



Series: Len Snart [5]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Earths, Based very slightly on DC New-52, F/M, Finding home, Going Home, Siblings, sibling angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: Len heads back to his Earth, temporarily, with Sara by his side. But fixing what he'd left behind won't be easy, and sometimes the idea of "home" is more complicated than it seems.





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> This will be the last story in this series, with this version of Leonard Snart, for a while. I hope you've enjoyed it. I have!
> 
> Many thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta. There will be three parts, but all three are already done and beta'd.

_Now he’s stronger than you know_ _  
A heart of steel starts to grow_

(“Superheroes,” The Script)

* * *

“Are you sure I need to wear this?” Sara stares into the mirror, inspecting the white domino mask that covers part of her face. It’s simple and fits perfectly, just like her White Canary outfit, but she hasn’t worn a mask since…well, before she died. The first time.

Len appears besides her, and they both regard their reflections. He’s in his full uniform, the one he’d been wearing way back when they’d found him, the sleeveless black jumpsuit and the white and blue hooded, sleeveless jacket over it. He also has a metallic blue mask much like her white one, and two pairs of blue eyes met in the mirror in silent understanding.

“You can do away with it if you want,” Len tells her, earning a yelp of protest from Cisco Ramon, who’d designed said mask and is waiting nearby for the right moment to use his breaching talents and send them over to Len’s Earth. “But just because I’m not aware of a doppelgänger of you on my Earth doesn’t mean there isn’t one. And if she’s a civilian…”

“Yeah. Let’s not mess things up for her. If she exists.” Sara eyes him. “People pay that much attention?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” Len steps away from the mirror with a sigh. “Especially with the Justice League, there are people who devote waaayyyy too much time and effort to following the usual slate of heroes. Blogs, social media, the whole nine yards. They see a newcomer, ‘specially one as…ah, notable as you, your pic’s gonna end up out there.”

He shrugs, adjusting his own mask. “It draws attention, but it’s protective coloration, in a way. People don’t look past the outfit. And once you’ve…hmm…changed your narrative, people tend to buy into it. They look at you as a story, not a person.”

He sounds almost unsettled, despite the assurances, and Sara draws closer again, thinking about what she knows about his life on his Earth.

“Aw, Len, do you have Cold groupies?” she teases gently, trying to draw him out of the mood. “Girls wearing goggles and trying to take selfies with you?”

That earns her a smirk. “And guys,” he drawls. “I’m an equal opportunity hero.”

Sara snorts. “I bet.”

“All right, people.” They’re interrupted by Wells, who strides into the room with Caitlin and Barry. “We’re good to go here. Mr. Snart? Let me fill you in on these.”

Len sets his shoulders and turns to face the trio as Cisco moves over to join them. Sara, turning with him, studies them too.

Caitlin winks at her, but Wells is already proceeding, reaching into his pocket to pull out…an ordinary pharmaceutical bottle.

Len frowns at it. “This is…”

“I told you we were working on using nanites to target the alien—by which I mean, strange, not extraterrestrial—parts of the DNA,” Caitlin tells him.

“The tech is in these capsules.” Wells gives the bottle a shake. It rattles. “They just need to swallow one. It will take a little time—not too long, but not immediate—and there may be unpleasant side effects while it works, but it _will_ work.”

Len stares at the bottle, then lets out a gusty sigh, reaching out to take it with a muttered and fervent “thank you.” Wells lets go, an understanding look very briefly flickering over his face as he nods.

“There are three in there,” he tells Len. “I know you said you didn’t want one. But…just in case.”

Len regards the bottle another moment, then nods, pocketing it. Then he glances at Sara. “So. I guess it’s time to go.”

Sara nods, turning to look around, as if the team had somehow managed to sneak in behind them. “It seems weird not to have the others here. I thought they’d…well.”

She’d actually declared a vacation for the Legends while they’d waited for Wells and Caitlin to work out the puzzle, and the team had scattered, at least somewhat. (Sara and Len had mostly stayed on the ship, except for working with Team Flash and meeting up with Sara’s mother, which had been memorable.) Sara knows that Ray and Nate had gone back to Star City for at least a few days, and Jax and Martin are with their families here. Mick and Amaya had hung around with Len and Sara, for a bit—Sara, amused, doesn’t mention the words “double-date”—but they’ve vanished too.

She hoped they’d be back in time for this. She’d called the team’s phones, with no luck, but they hadn’t had a ton of notice, and there’s no point in waiting. Still…

“Boss!”

* * *

Both Sara and Len turn, then give each other wry smiles as they notice the other’s reaction. Then they watch Mick as he saunters into the room, Amaya with him.

“Were you talking to me or him?” Sara asks her unofficial second with amusement as he stops in front of her.

“Yes.” Mick smirks at her, then looks at Len. “Sorry. Rest of the team, they didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. So. Said I’d, uh…what’d Haircut say? Yeah, ‘ _convey_ their well-wishes.” He nods, looking satisfied, then glancing at Amaya and back at Len.

“Won’t say ‘be careful,’ ‘cause I know you won’t, but…” He hesitates. “Eh. Don’t let me…him…oh hell, whatever, you get it. Don’t let him shove you around. From what you said, he’s pretty much me at a… certain part of my life. Angry at the world.” He glances at Amaya again. “Doesn’t know there’s…more. Doesn’t think it’s for him if he does. Hope you can tell ‘im otherwise.”

It’s incredibly eloquent for Mick, who Len knows struggles with words sometimes even though he’s far smarter than most people give him credit for. He nods, then reaches out to grasp the other man’s arm, a brief gesture that’s still a departure for them. Micks nods back, once, then turns to Sara.

Len eyes Amaya, who smiles back at him. He likes her, this woman out of time, though he’s neglected to tell her that he’s also met (and flirted with) her granddaughter from his Earth.

“Godspeed,” she tells him. “And come back soon and safe.”

“We’ll do our best.”

Mick and Sara have now finished saying whatever they had to say to each other, and Sara and Len lock eyes, then turn, taking in the sight of the bemused Team Flash watching them all.

“This,” Cisco breathes, “is weird.”

Barry’s grinning, though. “You guys be safe,” he adds. “Say hi to my doppelgänger.”

“He ain’t much like you. But if I see him…” Len’s more likely to snark and sass, and they both know it. “Well. Something like that.”

Cisco claps his hands together briskly then. “OK, well, as utterly bizarre—and weirdly entertaining--as it is to witness all these…feelings…from people who once tried to kill me, sort of, I think it’s time to get this show on the road. Ready?”

“Sorry, Nerd Boy,” Mick rumbles at him, even at Len and Sara glance at each other again.

“Let’s go,” Len says with a sigh, then scans the room. “Ah. I don’t…I’m not…just…” He shrugs again. “Thank you all.”

Among the murmured chorus of “welcomes,” Cisco raises his hands and the air…splits.

“I’ll open it again in 12 hours,” he tells them. “And then every hour on the hour after until it hits a full day.”

“After that,” Mick informs them then, arms crossed and an expression that says he won’t be countermanded on this, not by either “boss,” “we come looking for you.”

Sara and Len exchange a look—presumably both imaging the kind of chaos that could cause—but don’t argue. If it goes that long, Len knows, they’ll need the help.

When the breach is big enough to admit two people, Cisco nods to them, and Len takes a deep breath, looking at Sara. He thinks about reaching out to take her hand, but something stops him. It’s one thing to kiss her in front of the massed teams here, but he doesn’t know precisely where they’ll be breaching into on his Earth, and he doesn’t want to make her a target…

So, instead, he just nods to her, and heads for the breach, not looking back.

* * *

The first thing Sara thinks about Len’s Earth is that the light looks different. The light and the colors; they seem somehow brighter, and for the first few minutes, everything seems a little…flat. But she blinks and it’s back to her normal, and her eyes quickly grow accustomed to the light.

They’ve emerged in what seems to be an ordinary alley, and there’s no one else around. Sara glances at Len and sees him staring up at the sky, just visible through the taller buildings around them.

As if feeling her gaze upon him, the man in question lowers his own gaze and regards her. He looks unsettled…a strange mix of glad and worried. Sara holds the gaze, trying to convey support, then speaks.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” she asks quietly.

Len visibly shakes his distraction off. “Not precisely. Will, though. All I need is a better look.” He squares his shoulders, then heads for the place where the alley opens to the street. Sara follows.

* * *

Not so far from city center. It seems vaguely odd to just about _see_ the city map unfolding in his head, given that the other Central City is different in so many ways big and small, and Len takes a deep breath, reminding himself that although so many things about this place feel like home, he’s leaving. He’s going back to Sara’s Earth. He’s…

He’s home?

It’s in his blood and his bones, apparently, and won’t be shaken as easily as he’d thought. Len takes another deep and shaky breath, hoping Sara doesn’t notice (let’s be honest, Sara almost certainly notices) and bends his brain to their best plan of attack.

Not that they’ll attack. They’ll almost certainly be defending.

Oh, holy hell, he doesn’t want to face Lisa.

“We’re actually in the right quadrant of the city,” he tells Sara, who’s studying her surroundings with an intent expression and letting him struggle with his thoughts. “Up for a walk? I’m sure my bike is long gone anyway and though we could take public transportation, I’d rather not deal with the hassle.”

Sara’s lips twitch as if at the thought. “Certainly. We should probably check the date.” She hesitates, studying him. “Cisco did say time runs differently on some Earths.”

He’s been trying not to think about that. Ramon had also said he didn’t think this was one of them, but…

“We’ll find a newsstand. Otherwise, best to stick to the back streets, the alleys…”

“The rooftops?” Sara’s voice is wry. She knows he’s not fond of heights, and they’ve squabbled good-naturedly about the value of the heights for either heroes or villains…or Rogues.

“Yeah, yeah.” Len takes another deep breath and nods. “OK, if we somehow get separated…get directions for the intersection of Samuel Street and James Place. There’s a diner there called the Ice Box; I’ll find you.”

“Let’s go.”

* * *

A newspaper honor box gives them proof that time here runs just the same as time back on Earth-1. Sara can see Len sigh in relief as he scans the headlines, then glance at her before turning away.

She’s pretty sure he’s finding it more difficult to reconcile his feelings about being back here with his desire to leave than he expected. She gets it, really. Like her and Nanda Parbat, sometimes a place calls to you even though you know it’s not the best thing for you, especially when it was home for years.

She just hopes he doesn’t have second thoughts.

It’s a little surreal to see Len stalking along in his full Earth-52 Captain Cold get-up, but he’d been completely correct. People turn to watch him—them—go, some pulling out cell phones and snapping photos, talking eagerly, loudly enough that Sara can hear their surprise and excitement, if not the precise words beyond “Captain Cold”… and “woman in white.”

She’s an unknown quantity—and probably a valuable one in the currency of information. She ignores the peanut gallery, staying at Len’s side, and eventually he looks at her with a speaking glance, one she returns in understanding.

Time to go underground—figuratively, anyway.

In unison, they both turn off the main roadway into an alleyway, Len leading the way around a corner before their interested audience can follow. He ducks into an alcove with Sara at his heels, and they wait there for a few moments to shake any civilian pursuers before Len steps back out and over to a door across the way.

Well, he can pick locks just as well as Earth-1 Snart. Sara smirks as Len eases the door open in the span of a minute, then follows him into the dark space within, scanning the room as he shuts and locks the door behind them.

Abandoned office building, she guesses. The windows are boarded up, but the dark shapes of desks are still visible in the gloom, a classic cubicle farm redolent of boredom and irritation.

“Len,” she whispers. “What’s up with the ‘Office Space’ set here?”

He sighs, eyeing her as he turns away from the door. “To the right,” is all he says. “Up the stairs.”

“Ahhhh. Rooftops after all.”

“Something like.”

* * *

Precisely like, actually. Len’s no roof-runner, not like some heroes he knows, but he also knows the value of changing up their location—whether or not he’ll admit that to Sara since it became a sort of longstanding joke between them.

Not long later, they emerge on the top of the building. Len relocks the door behind them and leads Sara toward the edge. Fortunately for him, though, the buildings in this particular block are so close together that there’s no leaping from site to site…just a bit of climbing and careful navigation. They traverse that set of buildings, then move kitty-corner to another, continuing for another bit until Len drops onto a fire escape, making his way toward the ground.

It’s not nearly so nice an area now. They’re more on the outskirts of the city, not so far from a mostly defunct industrial complex near the river, a complex gradually abandoned as water traffic became less important to the movement of goods throughout the country. Although it’s nearing noon now, there aren’t many people around, and the ones that are minding their own business.

It’s just that kind of area.

Len looks swiftly around once he alights, then ducks over to hug the wall, walking quickly toward the industrial area. Sara is at his heels, and he knows she’s watching his back as he skirts the complex, gradually moving inward, building to building, following the map in his memory.

If they’ve abandoned this safehouse/base…well, Len has more options in mind, a mental list of places he himself set up over the years. He’s relatively sure Mick and Lisa would stick together, united in their challenges—and their hatred of him.

 And beyond that, he knows them well enough that he can, he thinks, put together the puzzle and track them down, especially if he deigns to ask for help. But that will take longer, and Sara needs to go back to her Earth and her home, and he…he doesn’t really want to be without her, even briefly.

Startling thought. They’re not joined at the hip, or anything. That's silly. But together, they’re stronger, better, more balanced, a team within a team in so many aspects. Enough so that's he even speculated on...well, seeing if she'd like to formalize that partnership someday, which is even more startling a thought.

But there's no time for such thoughts now. They're approaching the warehouse/safehouse he's deemed the most likely to be Lisa and Mick's base. And the greeting is not likely to be friendly.

* * *

Sara can feel the rising tension in Len as they move farther into the complex. Well…it’s understandable, and frankly, she’s not immune. This Earth’s Mick Rory and Lisa Snart have some truly scary abilities, and they won’t look kindly on Len or, she’s pretty sure, anyone with him. At least, not until he tells them his news.

Maybe not even then. Sara might not have a college degree, but she’s been around enough to learn a thing or two about human nature.

The area is deserted, now, silent except for the faint sweep of the breeze and the cries of gulls and sounds of boat engines from the waterfront not so far away. Sara can smell water both moving and standing, that indefinable mix of something crisp and fresh and something ever so slightly rotten, and the whiff of oil and other industrial material once used here. The colors around her flicker and go flat, bright, again briefly as she tails Len through the light and shadow, and she shakes her head, frowning.

After pausing in the shadow of the entry to another cluster of buildings, Len sighs nearly inaudibly and glances at her. He doesn’t have to speak aloud to tell her they may be close. High alert.

Sara nods. They’ve discussed plans already, but they both know that plans rarely survive the first engagement with the…the enemy.

She watches his back as Len pops the massive lock on a door fairly easily (while shaking his head in disapproval) and follows as he moves silently into the building, closing the heavy door behind them. The doorway isn’t the main entry to whatever business had once been housed here, just a rear entrance that leads to what seems to be a small receiving room, and the windows are boarded up, leaving the space in shadow.

But…Sara takes a breath, then a deeper one. There’s not as much dust in the air as she’d think.

Len studies the room but ignores the two closed doors that seems to lead deeper into the complex on this floor. Instead, he steps toward one labeled as a stairwell, looking back to catch Sara’s eye.

She’s in this for better or worse. She nods back, falling into step with him, as they quietly head through the door and then downward, stepping carefully on the dark stairs.

The stairwell goes down two flights, and Len ignores the doorway at the first sublevel and carefully opens the door at the second. The space is now truly dark. Sara’s eyes have become accustomed to the darkness, but it’s still hard to see and she’s not comfortable with the lack of information. She pauses a moment, watching Len, trying to convey that.

He pauses, too, then breathes, “Gotta pass through one more space before I can hit some lights—used to be a cubicle farm for some of the office types. No windows equals less distraction, I guess.” He shakes his head. “And people wonder why I became a crook.”

Sara smirks as she studies him, then nods. Len pushes open the door, and they step through.

It’s not the maze of desks and dividers she expects, though. She gets the impression of a large open space without much cluttering it, even darker than she expected. Len takes another step, then stops.

“Different,” he mutters, and Sara can hear the frown in his voice. He takes another step, then another, and Sara moves closer so they can watch each other’s backs. She draws in a breath, frowning too, then another, swearing she smells the faintest trace of cooking meat.

And a whiff of…

Smoke.

Everything happens at once, then, in the roar of flame and the crackle of ice. Sara gets one good look at this Earth’s Mick Rory as the flames surge and Len steps up, raising his hands to send a responding wave of ice to meet them—but then she drops to the ground and rolls away as the men start yelling at each other, indistinct profanity and deprecations from Mick, attempts at explanation from Len.

Len can handle himself. But if Mick’s here, there’s likely to be someone else as well, and someone needs to watch for her or this whole thing might end quickly, and very badly indeed.

As fire meets ice, steam roils out, and the room gets even harder to see in than before. Sara, glad for her newer boots (which offer improved footing on more than just ice), moves farther away from the elemental battle, listening intently, shaking her collapsed bo out of her sleeve, extending it and then separating it into the two shorter staffs.

Then she closes her eyes, holds her breath and…

There.

Sara ducks, whirls, and brings up a staff to block rather than attack. The steamy air churns around her, and she hears, under everything, a whisper of female laughter, a sound that’s, well, none too sane.

Is there a way of getting through? Sara takes another deep breath, putting her back toward the wall again, lowering the staff a little.

“Lisa,” she says in an intense tone, pitching her voice to be heard even through the chaos. “We’re here to help you. Your brother…he…”

But those words are apparently not the right ones. The whisper of laughter rises into a howl of anger, and Sara ducks and whirls and moves again, blocking, and this time there’s a metallic noise as something connects with her staff.

There are words, in the howl. They might be: “ _He_ did this!” They might not.

Sara responds, however, like they were. “He didn’t mean what happened!’ she cries, moving into a guard position again. “He screwed up. Big time. But he’s been looking and looking for a way to help you and…”

Duck, move, block.

“…and we have one. We have one, Lisa. We can help.”

But then the noises behind her change, the rush of ice and the rage of fire muting, and it’s a stupid move, a rookie move, but Sara glances back to make sure Len’s OK, then back in the fraction of a second, long enough for a hand to emerge from the seething, fading steam, heading straight for her.

And then Len’s there, in front of her, and the golden fingers stop a millimeter, no more, from his face. Their owner steps forward.

And Sara gets her first clear look at what’s become of Lisa Snart.

Who calls herself, now and on this Earth, Lady Midas.


	2. Fire & Gold

It turns out that this Earth’s Mick—once Len had powered forward enough behind his shield of surging ice—had stood down once Len had managed to get his message across. He’s now standing with the rest of them in the room adjacent to the one where they’d battled, arms folded, expression blank, small flames occasionally licking across his burned, scarred skin. It’s all too clear where the faint scent of cooking meat had come from before, as the skin sizzles and blisters and heals, again and again, but the big man shows no sign of any pain. Indeed, very little reaction at all.

After a moment, he seems to feel Sara’s eyes on him and glances at her, life momentarily sparking in his own eyes—eyes a weirdly different shade than her Mick’s eyes, and isn’t that an odd difference?

There’s assessment there, briefly, almost curiosity, but it’s quickly gone, replaced by that waiting blankness. Sara knows that this Mick is a different man than the Legend she knows—he met Len when they were both about 10 years older, for one thing—but actually seeing how profound the difference is…it hurts, almost physically. She sees the regretful look Len gives his old friend as he saunters by, but his focus is on his sister, who may have deigned not to kill them, but certainly isn’t happy about the matter.

Lisa Snart—Lady Midas—is sitting on a chair at one end of the room, where she’d slowly stalked after entering, silent and grim. The piece of furniture looks like it started life as an ordinary, cozy papasan, but now it’s just like its owner: solid gold.

Lisa bears the mark of her gold gun in every part of her, living gold from her hair to her toes. She somehow still moves like flesh, which is more than anyone can say for anything else she touches with a bare hand—such as the figure, easily taken for a particularly disturbing statue, standing in the corner.

“That damn fool Scudder thought he could use her,” Len had told Sara, back on her Earth. “He…found out otherwise. No, she’s safe. But it’s no way to live.”

Len walks over to stand in front of the chair, and no one in the room can miss that he’s just out of arm’s reach. The siblings regard each other, icy blue eyes meeting golden orbs that shouldn’t even be able to see, and Sara feels her heart clench, thinking of Laurel and the way any Leonard Snart she’s ever known has talked about his sister.

Lisa’s “wearing” what seems to be a leather jacket, T-shirt and jeans, all melded into the gold that’s consumed her. The only thing that isn’t gold is the long pair of black silk gloves she’s now wearing, like something out of an Audrey Hepburn movie, and Sara knows from Len that given time, those will have to be removed too, switched for a newer pair, lest they start to turn as well. Raw silk, as far as he knows, is the only thing that’s even remotely resistant to her “powers.” For now.

“So,” the other woman says in that odd, hollow tone. “Back to the scene of the crime, big brother? We thought you were gone, fled, from both your ‘Justice League’ and us, like the coward you are.”

Len’s chin goes up stubbornly, but Sara can see his eyes are full of anguish. “I didn’t run,” he returns. “You threw me out. And I joined the League because…”

But Lisa cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “You were gone. Why doesn’t matter.”

Sara’s temper gets the better of her. “He didn’t have a choice,” she snaps, stepping forward as those golden eyes snap to her. “He was trying to get back. And he even managed to find a way to help before he did.”

Lisa stares at her, but Mick interrupts the fledgling standoff by stepping forward himself. “Help?” he rumbles. “Snart?”

Len gives him a harried look, glancing back at Lisa and Sara and then over at his former friend. Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the small bottle Wells had given him.

“If you take one of these, it will undo…it will undo what I forced you into,” he says starkly. “Take away the damned ‘powers.’ Can’t give you your guns back. But…”

It’s less what he did than, more strictly speaking, what a rogue meta did, in combination with their upgraded guns, but Sara holds her peace on that. She understands Len’s guilt. Nothing she says will change that.

Mick and Lisa both look at the bottle. But Lisa is frowning, and Sara knows that’s not precisely what Len had expected.

“Undo…” the golden woman muses. “How do we know that’s true? This is…” An odd look flickers across her face. “…not the best existence, but how do we know you won’t make it worse? At least no one can hurt me now.” She shakes her head at Len as he starts to protest. “You said it would make things better, before. It did not.”

“Lis…” Len takes a deep breath, then closes his eyes. “Lis, Mick, I screwed up. Big time. I was trying to up the game. I thought I knew best. I didn’t. I didn’t plan that meta, but it’s still on me.” He sighs, voice cracking a little. “I’m trying to fix it. Believe it or not, I’ve been trying ever since. And I’m gonna get outta your hair, soon. I’m leaving for good.” He opens his eyes, glancing at Sara. “But…but I can’t do it until I know I’ve fixed my fuck-up. Please. What can I do?”

Mick remains silent, eyes unreadable. Lisa turns her gaze to Sara too, her expression turning considering, and for a moment, Sara has the scary feeling she’s considering making her brother pay by making him give up something _he_ apparently wants. But then she turns back, nodding as if to herself.

“And would you take one of those…whatever they are?” she says in her metallic tone.

“Nanites,” Len says almost automatically, looking at the bottle. “To fix the DNA. I…” He hesitates.

He largely has control over his powers, in part, apparently, because he’d worked to get control of his gun when it was first linked with him, Sara knows. They’re part of him now. But…

“Yes,” Len says finally, abruptly. “If that’s what you want. There are three. I…”

Then he just shakes his head, pops the top of the bottle and shakes one of the pills out onto his hand. He holds it up, regarding it, then looks at Sara.

“You’re still a Legend,” she tells him quietly, ignoring Lisa watching them. “Powers or not. Do what you have to do.”

Len gives her a nod, eyes fixed on hers, and then…

Then Mick steps forward, suddenly, unexpectedly, and grabs the pill right out of his former friend’s hand. He pops it in his mouth, swallowing, as Len whirls to stare at him, and Lisa jerkily gets right up from her seat, stepping forward too.

“Mick?” she says, sounding the most human Sara has heard her yet. “What…”

The bigger man shakes his head, lowering his hand. “Sorry, squirt,” he rumbles. “I’m sick of this. Sick of…the burning shit. Thought I’d never get tired of that, once, but…it hurts.” He looks down at his hands, even as another small flame licks along his left wrist, and another curls around his right elbow. “All the fuckin’ time. And I can’t…can’t even have a beer within it getting all warm and disgusting.” He darts a look at Len, who’s regarding him with a complicated expression. “How long will it take until this stuff starts working, Snart?”

Len clears his throat, obviously taken aback by the turn things have taken. “Shouldn’t be long. Mick…I…”

“Stuff it. I get it.” Mick frowns at him. “I think I couldn’t have told you to fuck off if I really wanted to, back then? I liked the idea of throwing fire around, ‘specially at the pigs. It’s not all about you, asshole.”

Sara can’t help it; she laughs at the flummoxed look on Len’s face, at the reminder that this Mick does have some attitude in common with the one she knows. This Mick looks at her again, and this time, he actually smirks. He opens his mouth…

But Sara never gets the chance to hear what he was going to say to her. Because at that moment, Mick Rory shudders, fist clenching, and staggers, nearly toppling to the ground.  Len lunges for him, arms icing up as a defense against the involuntary flames, and catches him, sort of, lowering him to the floor—which is, fortunately and unfortunately, bare metal.

“Mick?” Lisa cries again, something unhinged in her tone again. “Get away from him!” She starts for Len, even as Sara starts for her, but Len puts up a hand and Lisa, at least, stops, staring at her estranged brother in anger and the fallen man in dismay.

Mick’s unconscious and twitching, now, and Sara makes a decision, stepping around Lisa to grab a coat--it looks like the old fireman’s coat she’s seen her Earth’s Mick wear, actually—off a chair and folding it, kneeling down to tuck it under the big man’s head. Mick jerks again, his spine arching right off the floor, and Lisa makes a noise of distress, watching.

“He’s going to be fine,” Len says in a determined tone (and maybe only Sara can hear the concern in his voice, and the promise of anger if Wells and Team Flash misrepresented this “cure”). “Lisa, I swear. It just doesn’t work immediately…”

“You said that before,” she hisses back at him, shoulders hunched, fists clenched. “ ‘Lisa, it’ll take time to get used to it.’ ‘Lisa, it’ll get better.’ ‘Lisa, it will be OK….!’ ”

Len’s shoulders hunch too, as if he’s been struck, but he continues on. “You can take the other one. We’ll watch over both of you…”

“I don’t even know who _she_ is.” Lisa gives Sara a look that might be rather nasty—it’s sort of hard to tell with her gilded features. “One of your precious new heroes? What’d she say…a legend? Aren’t most legends dead?”

That cuts just a little close to the quick, and Sara can’t stay quiet. “Lisa, your brother’s a good man. And he’s right, this will…”

“ _You_ be quiet! You’re like _them_ …”

“Lisa, please…”

Mick makes a deep groaning noise, then, and all three of them look at him, just in time to see flames leap up around his hands, even as they’re folded across his chest. But even as Len reaches out to douse them, they flicker and die, and Mick twitches again, going still and pale underneath the copious scars.

Len’s eyes are narrowed, his jaw set as he checks the other man’s pulse. Sara sees him relax just a little—a good sign—before Lisa decides enough is enough. She pulls off one black glove, dropping it to the floor, then another, and reaches for Len with a growl.

He blocks with an iced-up hand, and Sara can see his expression freeze as he realizes the ice is the only thing that’d stopped him from becoming another statue. For her part, she’s rarely felt so helpless. She has few defenses against Lisa’s powers, and she and Len, at least, know it.

“Lisa,” Len whispers again, wrapping his ice-clad fingers around his sister’s golden hand, “please.”

The other woman’s eyes are shining, and while it’s almost certainly the light off the metallic surface, the effect is reminiscent of tears.  “He’s the only one I have left!” she cries, and Sara can see Len’s face still in pain. “The only one of the Rogues who stayed, who isn’t terrified of me. If he dies…if you’ve killed him…” She jerks her hand back. “Get out!”

Len struggles to his feet as Sara reaches out to take his hand. “Lis, someone who can…who can touch him should stay…”

_“Get out!”_

There’s really only one thing left to do. They get out.

Len puts the bottle holding the remaining two pills on the table before they go.

* * *

Get out.

Len can tell Sara is letting him take the lead here; he knows this Earth, knows this city. But they’re not out of the building five minutes, just barely out of the industrial district, when he feels his steps slow, almost involuntarily.

He…thought it would be different, he thinks numbly. He’s not sure why; it’s not like he’d expected adulation for fixing what he’d screwed up in the first place. But he’d tried, he really had, and he’d thought he could help…

He can’t even save his sister and his oldest friend, not really. Some kind of hero. _No_ kind of hero at all…

“Len?” Sara’s voice is soft, and he blinks, suddenly realizing that he’s been standing there staring at his feet. He looks up at her, and whatever she sees in his face, it makes her own expression contract, and she reaches out to take his arm.

He’s no fan of sympathy, but he just can’t bring himself to shy away from it now, not from her. He grabs her hand like it’s a lifeline and they stand there, linked, numb.

Finally, Len sighs. “I need a shower,” he mumbles, looking down at his sweaty, slightly singed uniform. “Gotta place we can go. I think. You…OK?”

He’s really not sure what he’s asking, but Sara seems to get it. She nods, squeezing his hand. “Lead on.”

The Blue Moon motel isn’t part of one of the shiny new chains that have proliferated so much in the past few decades. Rather, it’s one of the family-owned, roadside types with a tiny rectangular pool in the protective semicircle of the rooms, and an office at one end, which is where Len slowly heads, still holding Sara’s hand.

* * *

The dark-haired woman behind the desk starts as she sees them, but quickly gets to her feet, calling Len “Mr. Cold,” which gives Sara a much-needed smile. The woman listens intently, obviously holding back questions as Len asks if the motel has a spare room for a few hours, then nods, reaching behind the counter to grab a key and extending it to Len.

“It’s…good…to see you back,” she says quietly, darting a curious glance at Sara and their still-linked hands. “Are you…can I do anything…”

Len takes the key with a weary smile. “This is good, Amari,” he says quietly. “Thanks. I…I’m not going to be around long, but we desperately need a shower and maybe a nap. I appreciate it.”

Amari gives him a nod. “It’s the least we can do, Mr. Cold, after how you helped us out.” She darts another look at Sara. “Take your time.”

Sara nearly laughs at the woman’s obvious speculation—she’s exhausted, filthy, and heartsick, not really in the mood for “taking their time.” But she thanks Amari fervently anyway, then squeezes Len’s hand, tugging gently.

He blinks, having apparently zoned out again, then says something quiet to Amari and turns for the door. They slowly cross the parking lot toward the far end of the motel, Sara checking the position of the sun in the afternoon sky, then Len finds the door he’s looking for and fumbles the key into the lock.

The room is small and spare, but immaculate, and Sara pulls Len, who’s frozen again, inside, locking the door behind them. “Go take your shower,” she tells him quietly, reaching up to cup his face with a hand. “You’ll feel better.”

Physically, anyway. But neither of them says that. Len nods jerkily after a moment, then turns, heading for the bathroom. Sara watches him go.

* * *

He has the water cold, at first, just this side of icy. It’s not like it really bothers him, after all, and after the flames, the chill feels good.

But he’s weary of hiding behind ice, and after a few minutes, he turns the temperature up, to something nearly scalding. Poor penance, for what Mick’s gone through. Is going through? Will the other man wake up, in time, bellowing for a beer that isn’t warm and grumbling about finding a new heat gun? He should have stayed, should have told Lisa…

But he keeps seeing that golden hand coming for his heart, with no hesitation at all.

Len turns the water temp back down to something more lukewarm, standing under the spray with his eyes closed, memory assailing him. After a moment, he leans forward, resting his forehead against the glossy white shower walls, cognizant of the tears—hotter than the water falling from the showerhead—running down his face.

He’s not sure how long he stands there. Long enough for the water to cool even more. Long enough that he starts as the shower curtain is pulled aside, and he turns and blinks to see Sara there, regarding him.

She’s already stripped her uniform off; well, if he’d been feeling grimy, she probably was too. He blinks again, water running down his face as she studies him, then nods, pulling her sports bra off over her head and stripping off her panties in a businesslike manner.

Then she steps forward and into the shower, tilting her head back under the spray just a moment before regarding him again—and then, reading his expression correctly, moving forward into his arms.

It should be sexy as hell, and certainly his body reacts that way. But as Len’s arms tighten convulsively around her, he lowers his forehead to hers, dragging in a shaky breath, and the tears surge again, hot on his face as Sara runs a gentle hand down his scarred back, her other hand pressing him closer. They stand like that a few long minutes before Len sighs again, then tilts his head, dipping it a little more even as Sara goes up on her toes to lift her lips to his.

They kiss under the cool water, a slow, gentle kiss that tastes of salt and the faint mineral tang of the shower spray, a kiss that speaks more of love and understanding than passion and desire, at least for now. Len closes his eyes, moving his hands to Sara’s shoulders, breathing deeply for a moment before kissing her again, even as the water cools even further and goosebumps rise on their skin.

He’s lost a lot, in the past year, much of it his own doing, but he’s gained too. Changed and grown and gained so much, and the most remarkable part of it is this amazing woman, who loves him even though she knows who and what he is, his flaws and his quirks and his deeds good and bad and ugly.

Where Sara is, is home.


	3. Choose Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is! I’ve really enjoyed writing this version of Leonard, but this is it for now. (Probably.) Many thanks, as always, to the awesome LarielRomeniel.

Sara wakes what is, by her fairly developed internal clock, about two hours after they’d fallen asleep, curled up together in the comfortable-if-small motel bed. Len’s left arm is thrown across her hip, his chest against her back, and she can still feel him breathing, deep and steady, at peace at least in this small, calm corner of his Earth. She pauses a moment to see if he wakes, smiles when he doesn’t, and then slowly moves from his loose grasp, rising to stretch, arms over her head, and sigh.

She doesn’t really want to put her uniform back on, but neither of them had thought to bring changes of clothing. Still, at least it’s dirt- and water-resistant. (Thanks, Cisco.) She rinses it off and hangs it up, knowing it won’t be long before it’s dry, smiling as she sees Len had already done the same with his.

She thinks, too, about going back to the industrial park to check on Lisa and Mick, to try again to get through to Lisa, to make sure Mick’s made it through the process unscathed. But something says it wouldn’t be a good idea, both in the case of the younger Snart and the elder. Nothing prevents them from visiting later to make sure all is well, she reminds herself, thinking with regret about the way things had gone. And maybe…

Len makes a startled noise in his sleep, and Sara turns, watching his eyes flicker open. He stares at the empty side of the bed a moment, then struggles into a sitting position even as she moves forward so he can see her.

The look of relief he gives her is startling…and saddening. Did he really think she’d leave? But in a way, he’s just lost two relationships in his life that go much further back, so why not this one?

The look of alarm moves nearly immediately to consideration, and a slight smirk as Len leans back a little, considering her continuing state of undress. Sara pouts at him—he’s got a sheet still pulled over most of himself—and the smirk grows, at least until he glances at the old clock radio on the bedside table and regret flickers through his eyes.

“Sadly, I do think we should be moving on,” he says, regret also filling his tone. (At least he also pulls the sheet aside as he stands, Sara thinks with amusement, enjoying the view.) “I want to hit an old safehouse to pick up some things. And the, uh, ‘Cold groupies,’ as you called ‘em, are probably looking for us.” Something sad crosses his face again. “And…Lisa knows I helped out Amari’s family, once. If she decided she wanted to…wanted to…”

He can’t make himself say it. Sara can’t make herself think of a good response. So instead, she just moves forward to kiss him again, and he lets himself be distracted.

* * *

Len returns the key to Amari in the office as Sara waits outside, studying their surroundings and wondering idly what she’ll do if actually confronted with Cold groupies. (Brag, she decides.) As Len slips back out, he gives her a small smile, and they start walking back toward city center, shoulder to shoulder.

They walk, for the most part, in silence, but as the taller buildings of downtown come into view, Sara glances over at Len, who appears lost in thought.

“You should probably tell them,” she says quietly. “Someone from your Justice League. They might be looking for you. Wondering about you.”

Len glances over. “Eh. I doubt it,” he says with a sigh. “Or…well, actually did I think Barry would look in on us by now—he usually knows what’s going on in Central to an utterly annoying extent, but…”

“You could tell _me_.”

They both stop in their tracks.

The voice is feminine, musical with an accent Sara can’t quite place, and she turns quickly, even as she registers Len’s intake of breath with the awareness that there’s no alarm in him. And then she freezes.

“Holy,” she breathes, “shit.”

Len darts a glance at her. “I _know_ , right?” he mutters, then looks back at the woman before them, running a hand through his hair and giving her a simultaneously fond and nervous expression Sara’s never seen on him before.

“Diana,” he says, just a bit awkwardly, reaching around to rub the back of his neck. “Hi.”

The black-haired woman watching them steadily is tall and...well, the best word is maybe "statuesque," in a way that speaks both of extensive physical training and excellent genes. Her get-up—gold and red and blue and Sara doesn't really know where to look without being distinctly impolite, if incredibly impressed—screams "hero," and there's a shield slung on her back and a sword at her hip, as well as a coiled, golden rope that seems to be...glowing?

Her look is not without amusement and even affection, though, and she smiles at Len before turning her head and regarding Sara, who feels her mouth going dry. Drier. (So she has a...a predilection...for badass dark-haired women, OK?) Still, Sara lifts her chin and meets the woman's eyes, trying to convey that she means no harm here—in fact, rather the opposite.

Diana studies Sara a moment longer, then inclines her head, regally, a salute of sorts.

“Sister," she says solemnly, and Sara feels like she's just been given an accolade she didn't even know she'd coveted. Then Diana turns her head again and regards the speechless Len.

"Leonard," she says in that musical accent. "Barry is...out of town." A tilt of her head. " _Very_ out of town, really. I said that I would pay mind to Central City, in his absence. I did not expect to see _you_."

There's a question, in the statement, and Len clears his throat, obviously trying to figure out precisely what it is and how to answer it.

"No one said anything about what happened?" he asked diffidently. "In National, couple months back?"

Diana nods. "There was a portal," she notes. "So Victor said. He brought in the meta responsible, but the man wasn't truly in control of his powers." She tilts her head. "We feared you dead or lost. But neither could anyone figure out how to reach you."

"Yeah...I landed in a different Earth. But I fell in with ...friends." Len takes a deep breath, then, squaring his shoulders, and looks at Sara and back at Diana. "Sara Lance, White Canary, this is Diana Prince," he says, a bit formally. "Justice League founding member, princess of Themyscira." A pause. "Also known as Wonder Woman."

"Yes, she is, isn't she?" Sara muses, still a bit dazed, then shakes her head at the other woman's amused look. "Pleased to meet you...your highness?"

Diana's lips quirk, just a little. "That is not necessary," she says, humor in her tone. "But...Lance?" She looks back at Len. " _White_ Canary?"

"Yeah, well, there are some differences." Len hesitates, then nods as if to himself, meeting Diana's eyes. "And I'm going back. To stay. The League doesn't really need me here, and I’m not...I can't go back to what I was before. I've got people, there." He looks at Sara. "And a...home. And..."

His voice trails off, but Diana lifts an eyebrow, looking back and forth between them. "Ah," is all she says. "Well, I shall convey your...resignation to Bruce. And Barry. You will be missed."

Len snorts. "I somehow doubt that," he mutters, but waves a hand as Diana gives him a questioning look. "Thank you. I..." He hesitates again. "The...the two called Lady Midas and Heat Wave. Central City Rogues. Ask Barry. They..." A deep breath, and an admission. "She's my sister, and he's the closest thing I've had to a brother, here." He meets her eyes. "Watch out for them? If you can? They have powers they can't control, and I tried to help them, but...I don't know how that's gonna work out."

It's obvious there's a lot of story there Len isn't telling, but to Sara's surprise, the other woman simply regards him another long moment and then nods.

"I will," she says simply. "I give you my word."

* * *

There's not so much more to say after that, honestly, and while Len's never been one to give up a chance to chat up Diana, neither does he want to further outline his many failings to her (or to Sara, who already knows them far more than most). It seems, now, to be a good time to take his leave, officially, of both her and of the League.

"Thank you," he says soberly, giving Diana a direct look and something far more sincere than his habitual smirk. "For that. For...more than that." _For treating him like a valid member of the League. For fighting alongside him when the others were still giving him that suspicious side-eye. For being…being._

And then, without waiting for a response, he glances back at Sara (who's still eyeing the other woman with a tentative expression of both respect and lust, both of which he _gets_ ) and nods, to her, turning away, heading off down the street, keeping sentiment at bay.

And Sara gets him too, because she falls into step without a word, just a nod to Diana, and they walk a moment, shoulder to shoulder, silent, in solidarity. But they’re only to the end of the block when Len slows again, glancing behind them.

Diana is still there, watching.

“Just a sec’,” he tells Sara. “Really. I…”

But he can’t finish. He just turns, and jogs back toward the princess of Themyscira, who watches him calmly with no surprise at all.

He stops a few feet again, taking another deep breath, and meets her eyes again, surprised at the understanding he finds there.

"Diana?" he blurts out. “A question?”

And then again, before she can do more than nod: “Am I doin’ the right thing? I…I’m leaving everything. My _world_. This time on purpose. Because I made connections there, and more…I…” He glances back at Sara, who’s also watching calmly. “I…it doesn’t seem like I deserve…”

But Diana holds up a hand, startling him into silence, and regards him solemnly.

“Do you love her, Leonard?” she asks after a moment, tone wistful and commanding at the same time, full of memory and loss and passion.

When it comes down to it, it’s the easiest question in the world. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Then, there is your answer. When in doubt, choose love. Always, choose love.” Stunning him into silence, she steps forward and kisses him, briefly, on the cheek, stepping back just as swiftly to smile at him, a joyous expression that has him blinking at her in dumbfounded wonder.

“And now, gods-speed, Leonard Snart,” she tells him quietly. “You have weathered the cold. Enjoy the warmth.”

* * *

" _Leonard_?” is all Sara asks as he rejoins her.

"Yeah, well, she's the only one who gets away with that, here." He sneaks a glance at Sara, who doesn’t seem bothered by that kiss on the cheek at all, but instead seems serene and amused.

God, he loves her, he thinks abruptly, again, then grins, stopping to face her.

“Let me show you my city,” he says.” Before we leave. We have a few hours. And I’m starving. What do you say?”

Her grin, slowly spreading across her face, is as wide as his. “Lead on.”

And he does.

* * *

They hit the Ice Box first, where the owners greet Len gleefully and generously offer them meals in exchange for a photo, and excellent pie for dessert.

From there, avoiding the groupies, they take to the rooftops again, and even Len is laughing as Sara flies like her namesake across gaps, turning to taunt and challenge him until he dares enough to catch up to her, grabbing her shoulders as the sun starts to set and kissing her again deeply as the sunset paints the sky. (They know someone in a nearby window is taking a photo of them. They don’t care.)

Once it’s dark, they break into the Flash Museum, which is closed for the evening, and Len proudly shows Sara the “Captain Cold” exhibit. They take a selfie for posterity’s sake and steal the question mark at the end of the “Hero or Villain?” marquee, and Len goes into the gift store and signs every single piece of merch with his image on it. (“They should be paying me royalties, you know.”)

And then, as the hours tick down, Len leads them to a quiet working-class neighborhood, jimmying the lock on an abandoned-looking apartment building to step silently into a musty-smelling ground-floor studio apartment.

“I pay peanuts to keep this thing for emergencies; the landlord’s out of the biz but can’t be bothered to actually take care of the place,” he mutters to Sara. “Advance rent will run out at the end of the month. Might as well take a few things.”

Despite his casual words, Sara notices how quickly he crosses to a small safe tucked into a corner of the room, and how carefully he removes a few items: a few photos, two books, a small wooden box. Without even bothering to close it, then, he rises, glances around, and nods to her.

“OK,” he says quietly. “We can go now.”

And then, as Sara watches, he stiffens, staring past with an expression that’s simultaneously horrified…and hopeful? She whirls, and freezes herself, at the sight of Mick Rory, fire-free and larger than life, standing there, watching them.

For a moment, she thinks it’s her Earth’s Mick. But…there are too many scars.

"Yeah, well, you don't make it easy to find you, asshole,” the bigger man rumbles, responding to a comment Len hasn’t even made. “Took me hours.”

Len swallows, watching him, and Sara carefully moves out of the way, still watching both of them. “I didn’t know you were going to be doing so,” he says quietly. “I woulda stayed, but…you OK?”

Mick studies him a moment…and then, unexpectedly, grins. It makes him look even more like Earth-1 Mick.

“I woke up and no more fire,” he says, raising his hands to admire them. “First thing I did was get a cold beer.”

Len makes an involuntary noise, and Mick tilts his head, watching him. Then he nods again.

“And talked Lis down,” he adds, in a diffident mumble. “The other two pills, they’re safe. I left ‘er staring at them, but I made ’er promise she wouldn’t take one ‘til I got back.”

Len drags in a shaky breath. “Do you think…”

“Yeah, she will. Take it, you mean? Yeah. She misses…lots of stuff.” Mick frowns at him. “You really leavin’?”

Len just stares at him another moment, and Sara gets it. He’s made some peace with leaving with business undone, and now…

“Yeah,” Len says after a moment, an echo. “I figure I’ve done enough damage now. Take care of her, would you?”

“Lis? Sure, but she can take care of herself. Even without the stupid powers.” Mick smirks, then looks at Sara. “So. Blondie. An’ you take care of this bastard, OK?”

Sara actually has to blink something out of her eyes. “Yeah, I will. I promise.” She pauses. “You…take care of yourself too.”

This Mick gives her an odd look. Then, showing the remarkable perception she knows her Mick is capable of, he says, “I don’t know you. But…you know me?”

“Yeah. Sort of.” She can’t really bring herself to say more. Fortunately, this Mick just snorts and nods, then looks back at Len.

“Figures I can’t remember the gorgeous blonde,” he mutters. “Snart?”

Len is still blinking, but then manages: “Mick. You need anything, you…and I know this sounds weird…track down a guy called ‘Vibe,’ OK? Ask…ask the Flash. They can, uh, put you in touch with me.”

Mick gapes at him. Then: “Um. OK,” he manages. “I can do that.”

“OK.” Len looks him in the eye. “Goodbye.”

“Bye, Snart. And…good luck.”

* * *

The alley is deserted, this time of the evening, and Len’s glad for that. He checks his watch, then the sky, and sighs, looking at Sara.

It’s not that he’s not OK, leaving this Earth. He is, especially now, but he’s still not sure life, fate, whatever, is going to let him get away with this.

Minutes left, really. He studies the sky, then looks almost involuntarily at Sara, who looks at him at almost the same time.

“Ready?” she whispers. “You OK with this?”

“Hell yeah.” He hesitates. “You?”

“Len…”

But whatever she’s about to say, it fades as the breach, as promised by Cisco Ramon, appears before them. The way home.

Len stares at it. Takes a deep breath. Then looks at Sara.

“Is it too cheesy to say, ‘Let’s go home?’” he asks her, smiling, holding out his hand. “ ‘Cause…well, let’s be honest, that won’t stop me.”

Sara laughs back at him, reaching out to take the hand. “Cheesy,” she chides him. “But…true?”

“That it is.” Len lifts her hand to his lips. “Shall we?”

“We shall. God only knows what the team’s gotten up to.”

“Eh. Mick will keep ‘em in line.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Len can’t help a laugh. “Well…depends on the line, doesn’t it?” He tightens his grip on her fingers. “Let’s go see what we need to clean up, captain.”

“As long as it’s ‘we,’ captain.”

“Always.”

And, together, they leap through the breach. Hand in hand.

Home.

* * *

_When you've been fighting for it all your life_

_You've been struggling to make things right_

_That’s how a superhero learns to fly…_


End file.
